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SUNSET AND SUNRISE

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Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Aug 14, 1901

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 27, No. 33.

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SUNSET AND SUNRISE.

By Geo. H. Snyder

I AM sitting at the window While the sun is sinking low, Filling mountain, hill, and meadow With a soft and golden glow. Fleecy clouds are slowly drifting From the azure-tinted west, Settling like a jeweled chaplet On Mt. Shasta’s hoary crest.
Such a scene portrayed on canvas Ne’er did mortal eyes behold; Ever-changing cloud-built chariots, Liveried in sun-lit gold, Roll their muffled wheels in splendor T’ward yon citadel of snow, Like some ancient warlike legion Pressing a beleaguered foe.
Now I see a shadow creeping Slowly up the mountainside, Mounting higher and still higher, Like the rising of the tide; Steadily the gloom advances, Veiling valley, hill, and town, Till at last it has enveloped Even Shasta’s jeweled crown.
’Tis the somber, creeping shadow Of the western mountain range; See the light retreat before it, Till, with movement swift and strange, Darkness wraps his sable mantle Round the mountain tall and white, While I sit in meditation ’Mid the gathering gloom of night.
As I watch the deep’ning shadows Settling down o’er hill and dale, As I listen to the sighing Of the wintry western gale, Then I think how moral darkness With its awful, sinful gloom, Settles o’er the teeming millions Sweeping onward to their doom.
Once again I’m at the window; Clouds and darkness all are gone; Shasta, like an unveiled statue, Greets the golden light of dawn, While the sunbeams’ Orient splendor, Mingled with the snowy white, Weaves the mantle of the morning Round the form once robed in night.
As I sit and watch the sunbeams Slanting toward the vale below, Mingling with the light reflected From the monuments of snow, Then I think of how the Master Sheds forth rays of light divine O’er time’s dark and shaded valley, Lighting up your path and mine.
Many bright prophetic sunbeams Shining from the Sacred Page, Herald forth the coming glory Of a brighter, better age; E’en now o’er the dark horizon Shine some beams of glory bright, Like the fingers of the morning Pointing to the land of light.
GEO. H. SNYDER.